No Other Way
by Fly Airbourne
Summary: Fatal Three Way! What should happen in June. Randy/John/Sheamus. SLASH.


Title: No Other Way

Author: Candy_rko

Pairings: John/Randy/Sheamus

Warnings: Graphic sex

Words: 2000

Disclaimers: Not mine

Notes: Written for angrbooa because of her love for all three men. This took a completely different route from how I'd initially wanted it to go. LOL. Oh well. Enjoy anyways.

Chapter 1/1

His back was slammed against the wall, heated kisses trailing down his throat. One large hand was rubbing his cock through his jeans. He bit back a moan. He didn't want the other man to know how this was affecting him. Because that meant that John Cena had given in, had submitted. And if there was one thing that John knew about his volatile 'relationship' with Stephen, it was that neither were willing to be the bitch. They were both alpha males, both incredibly dominant. Something that John hadn't shared with another person in years. He was used to his lovers laying there and taking it. Not having to fight for control.

"Yah like that, do yah?" The pressure of Stephen's palm increased, John's cock swelling, confined by his boxer briefs and jeans. "Tha great John Cena, beggin' like a fookin' puppy. Ah'll have yah screamin' before it's over." Oh Fuck, John gnawed his lip, hips thrusting of their own will against Stephen's hand. The man was magic with hands. Long fingered, wide palms, perfect for wrapping around a cock or inside his- John moaned dirtily as his jeans and boxers fell to his ankles. He was bared before the Irish man, vulnerable, and oh so painfully aching for a taste of the ginger haired god in front of him.

"Goddamn," John murmured, the pre-cum that was on Stephen's hand was greedily being licked like a fucking cat. His tongue was lapping at the pearlescent drops as if it were the tastiest cream in the world. Maybe it was. All John knew was that it was driving him insane to watch that pink tongue dart out. The fucking tease.

"Such a big boy, aren't yah, John?" Stephen purred, Cheshire Grin only making John hotter. He knew what was coming. Pun intended. "Tell me, how do ya see this endin'? Me on mah back or 'avin' me thrust in yah? Yah'd like that, wouldn't yah? Ta feel this," Stephen's hips gyrated against John's groin. John's eyes closed. Stephen was thick, long, the perfect cock for pounding his ass. No one had ever given it better to him. "In yah."

"I ain't a bitch boy," John snapped, body protesting his mind's refusal to submit to the Celtic Warrior. "I ain't gonna be-" he stared as Stephen's clothes were hastily removed, leaving the other man bare before him. His eyes greedily roamed the muscular body. At the colossal column of meat jutting from between those pale, corded thighs. There were still faint purple bruises marring creamy skin. It made John shiver.

"Yah wanna get on yer knees, _Champ?_" Stephen gestured towards his cock with his hand, a smirk curling his lips.

There would have been a time that John would have fought tooth and nails but after having warmed the man's bed for the past two months… John licked his lips. He was addicted to Stephen. His lips wrapped around the leaking head, tasting the sweet, succulent nectar. A honey of aphrodisiac quality that made his shaft even more engorged. "Ah, that's it, John," Stephen soothed him, hands at the back of John's head, guiding him…

He ran his tongue along the bulging vein that ran from crown to base, loving how Stephen shuddered, having long since learned how to suppress his gag reflex. He exerted gentle suction, drawing his lips across the solid ridge until he felt the tip of Stephen's cock pressing against the back of his throat and his face was nestled against curls of red. There was something satisfying about feeling a cock penetrate his face. Demeaning, yes, but with the raw power that Stephen exuded it only made him more aroused.

Stephen was rolling his hips and moving his hot, stiff prick on his own accord. John stopped, experiencing the sheer animal sensation of having his face fucked. He kept his eyes open, drinking in the moment, watching that face contort with ecstasy. John liked to believe that no other had ever or would ever bring Stephen the amount of pleasure that John could. "Yer damn good at this, Johnny," Stephen murmured, voice raspy with desire, gray eyes blown black with lust. "And yer all mine, eh?"

The door opened with a loud bang, John quickly releasing Stephen's cock with a 'pop!' He gazed in horror at Randy Orton, of all people, to be the one to witness it. "Randy, this isn't-"

Randy's smirk was that of a Viper, arms crossed in front of his chest as he crossed the hotel room, "You got him ready for me. Good work, Stephen," Randy grabbed John by his chin, John's face heating with embarrassment. He knew he looked like a whore; saliva and cum dripping down the corners of his mouth, lips swollen… "Hmm, you look delicious like this, John. Sinful even."

"What are you doing here?" John asked, wary, glancing behind Orton at Stephen. "Stephen, I-"

Stephen shook his head, "He was gonna tell everyone. Ah didn't want this bein' everyone's business…"

"Aww, how sweet. You make me sick," Randy sneered, rolling his eyes. "But I know how to shut you up. Be a good boy and I won't have to tie your arms behind your back," Randy's grin was wicked as he pulled out a blind fold from one of the pockets of his jacket.

"Randy, I don't want to-"

A backhand across his face sent him reeling. Shocking him. "Orton!" Stephen snarled, taking Randy by the arm, "Don't!"

"You're acting like you care about him. You told me that's it's only sex." Randy stroked the side of John's face; there'd be a bruise in the morning. "Don't scream, baby."

The blindfold obscured his vision.

He felt helpless. And he felt betrayed.

John's body tensed as he was pushed onto the bed, thighs that were Orton's parting his legs, leaving him spread eagle. "Beidh sé ceart go leor. Geallaim go hálainn. This was his price, Johnny."

Why did it always seem that John had to pay the price? That he was always on the receiving end of some sort of punishment? A year ago, John would have sold his soul to have Randy Orton look at him like he looked at Cody. Funny, now that Cody was on a different brand, Randy needed to toy with someone else. "Just get on with it."

Randy chuckled, his breath ghosting across John's shaft. "I want you to put your boyfriend's cock in your mouth and suck him off."

"Yah don' have to," Stephen said softly, his still rock hard cock pressing insistently against John's stomach.

Having Stephen in his mouth made Randy violating his body more bearable. "I want to."

A solid weight settled on his chest, the tip of Stephen's cock against his lips. That heady aroma, that taste of him… John moaned, wanting to see Stephen's face, instead of feeling Randy's fingers-cold with lube-teasing his hole. "You're tight. Goddamn, John, I should have gone after your ass before."

"Ah, Johnny," Stephen groaned, John's body relaxing, imagining it was Stephen fingering him and not Randy. Not when Randy's own lover was miles away. Not when Cody was completely oblivious to his older partner's sexual deviancy. "Don' tease me like tha."

A tongue was probing his hole. Wet. Warm. John couldn't stop himself from pushing against Randy's mouth. "You like that?" Randy chuckled, swiping his tongue inside, just barely rimming. Like a small cock being inserted in and out. John could almost forget that this was Randy Orton, notorious play boy and locker room slut. "Keep making those faces, baby. You're so sexy." His body was thrumming. He was panting around Stephen's cock, breathing heavily through his nose, speeding up the bobbing of his head on Stephen's dick. He wanted to cum. With how Randy was expertly playing his body; he was hitting all the right notes, banging all the right keys. With his mouth stuffed full of Stephen's massive girth. Unable to see was making this experience strange. Different. Oddly enjoyable. He was smelling the odor of sex and sweat, making his cock swell and strain against his abs.

"I think you're ready."

Randy's tongue was gone, replaced by something much bigger, much more gratifying.

Inch by agonizing inch was pushed inside; Randy had to have been damn near nine inches. And so solid. No wonder every man and woman wanted a piece of Randy fucking Orton. He was a sex god, made to service a person's body.

John's legs were wrapped around Randy's waist, giving Randy the perfect leverage, his cock head brushing against John's sweet spot in one solid thrust. John's whole body was on fire, writhing on the bed, the springs violently protesting the movement. The sounds of skin sliding against skin, of Randy's balls slapping his ass, of the slurping noises his own fucking mouth was making as he deep throated Stephen…

His orgasm was uncoiling rapidly in his groin.

Randy was pounding into him viciously, his hands digging into John's skin roughly. Each brutal stroke was sending him closer to the edge. And with how swollen Stephen's cock was in his mouth it wouldn't be long and oh God, did John- The blind fold was removed, John gazing in lust as Stephen climaxed, swallowing every last drop of cum that filled his mouth. "Stephen, fuck, _Stephen_," John whimpered, hips rocking against Randy, not caring that a few copious ribbons of cum was trickling down his chin.

He glanced at Randy, the man's eyes were half lidded, his mouth slack. Each tendon and muscle bulged. Sweat was beading on his chest and forehead. The grunts and groans were carnal, animalistic and so fucking pornographic that witnessing Randy Orton in this state was erotic. He was cumming. Hard, feeling it on his stomach, not giving a damn that he resembled a cock hungry slut in that moment. His entire world went black, not even noticing as Randy orgasmed. Not even feeling Randy withdraw.

Stephen rolled off his chest, grabbing a shirt off the headboard and wiping John's chin and mouth with a wry smile, "Yah dirty wanker."

"What can I say? You make me dirty," John winked, face flushed as he met Randy's cobalt gaze, "So, you gonna keep your mouth shut?"

Randy chuckled, disappearing into the bathroom, "As long as you don't tell Coddles," the humor was absent, the Viper glaring at them both, "He doesn't need to know. And if he does find out, I'll rip your head off your bodies. Later, boys," he grinned, finishing buttoning his jeans and slinging his shirt across a shoulder.

"I think he's bipolar," John commented the second the door closed. "God, Princess Randy is such a Diva!"

Stephen laughed, "Don' let him hear yah say that. Ah'm gonna take a shower. Yah with me or no?" "I was just _raped _by Randy Orton. A shower sounds really fucking nice. Ugh. I don't know if I'll ever be the same."

"Ah didn't hear yah complain' too much about havin' yer arse taken by 'im," Stephen held out his hand, "Ah'm only playin' wit' yah, Johnny."

"I know and yeah, I kinda liked it. Randy's hot. But that attitude of his needs a make over," John scowled, grabbing Stephen's hand, "So, how about you make me forget about being molested by Randy Orton?"

"Ah think Ah can that."

John grinned his famous dimpled grin and followed Stephen into the bathroom.

Life was fucked up but perfect.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
